


A Drop of Jetaire

by Sunfreckle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-01-30 06:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21423769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle
Summary: Once in a blue moon I write some Jetaire, but it's always very soft. This is a collection of unconnected ficlets.
Relationships: Grantaire/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Something Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for tonks2008~

“You really are terrible at this.”

“If you’d give me something to _do_ it wouldn’t be so hard to sit still.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes at Jehan, with a fond expression on his face. “I’m nearly done,” he promises.

“You said that _ages_ ago,” they complain, trying to keep the pose Grantaire is drawing them in.

“Five minutes,” Grantaire chuckles.

“Is that how much longer?” Jehan asks, almost sighing.

“No, that’s when I said I was nearly done,” he smiles. “But you keep moving.” He looks up from his paper and into their eyes. “It doesn’t hurt to keep the pose, does it?”

“No,” Jehan says, dark eyes shining with dissatisfaction. “But I’m bored.”

“Think about something nice then,” Grantaire hums, switching pencils. Jehan gets so terribly restless for someone who can spend literal hours just wandering though the fields with their head in the clouds. It’s the sitting still that does it he supposes.

There is a moment of complete quiet and Grantaire looks up from his paper again. Jehan is looking at him, silently, holding the pose. “What now?” Grantaire asks.

“I’m thinking,” Jehan says.

The corner of Grantaire’s mouth quirks upward. “_A dangerous pastime_,” he sings.

“_I know_,” Jehan hums. They keep to the tune, but their expression doesn’t change. They’re looking _at_ Grantaire but not exactly into his eyes. Something about the tension in their face is different from before. The line of their cheeks is just a little different. Grantaire quite likes it.

Jehan doesn’t say a word as Grantaire finishes the sketch. They don’t move either, which makes it a lot easier to actually finish it now.

“There,” Grantaire says, taking some distance and glancing at the way he captured Jehan’s features with mild pride. “Of course nothing does justice to the original,” he jokes. “Come and have a look if-”

Before he can finish Jehan’s hands are wrapped around his neck and their lips press firmly against his. Grantaire leans into the kiss, leaving his surprised smile until after they’ve let go of him.

“What was that for?” he grins.

“That was what I was thinking about,” Jehan says.

Grantaire touches his mouth and chuckles. “Was it now?”

“Well,” Jehan hums, turning to admire their likeness on the paper. “You told me to think of something nice.”


	2. Early Morning Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jetaire, Established Relationship, Tooth-rotting Fluff, 1.5k
> 
> Requested by @prettypettypansexual who asked for Jehan and Grantaire dancing to American Pie, completed for Rare Pairs week!

Grantaire has a reputation for being a layabout. Undeserved, he feels, because he actually gets up earlier than most of his friends. Compared to say, Bahorel or Combeferre, he is a veritable morning person. At least Grantaire thought he was a morning person. Until he met Jehan, that is.

“Good morning!”

Grantaire casts a groggy look towards the bathroom as he passes and blinks at Jehan who is standing in the doorway, smiling at him as they brush their hair.

“Morning,” he yawns and that is enough proof of consciousness for Jehan to come and drape their arms around his shoulders as soon as they’ve tied up their hair.

By then Grantaire has made it halfway to the kitchen and he smiles tiredly as Jehan nuzzles against his neck.

“Did you sleep well?” they ask.

“Coffee,” Grantaire answers, pressing a kiss on their cheek. How Jehan manages to wake up so fast he’ll never know.

Jehan lets him go, but they trail after him to the kitchen, watching how he fills the percolator. When he’s placed it on the stove they try for more kisses, however, and Grantaire ends up hugging them from behind, leaning his head on their shoulder as he watches the coffee brew.

“Coffee takes so long,” Jehan sighs.

“Can’t rush perfection,” Grantaire hums, blinking against the heaviness still clinging to his eyes.

Jehan turns around in his arms and looks up at him, face suddenly lit up. “We can dance a little while we wait,” they say and they push against him a little to make him sway on his feet.

“Mmm,” Grantaire mutters, repressing a yawn. Coffee first.

“Or you could sing something,” Jehan tries, pulling him towards the chair in the corner where one if his more battered guitars ended up.

Grantaire grunts. It is way too early in the morning to entertain.

“Aw…” Jehan pouts. “Please?”

“Don’t you try to use your fae eyes on me,” Grantaire scolds.

“Come on…” They slide out of his arms and fumble for their phone.

“No song and dance without caffeine,” Grantaire declares, but Jehan merely gives him a determined grin.

They put their phone down on the counter and there is a single beat of silence before the first, painfully recognisable sound rings out.

_“[A long, long time ago](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DBGJqo_bkAuM%26ab_channel%3DNephon75&t=MmFhOTA4ZjcwODAzM2YzZjgyOTBmN2U3NTM5M2E0ZDM3YTQ3ODNiNCwyWGF4M05HQg%3D%3D&b=t%3A8JQA8OHRcwr219nd49TPmw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmysunfreckle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175874652386%2Fearly-morning-music&m=1)—”_

The grin that breaks through Grantaire's grogginess is completely involuntary. “No,” he says. “Won’t work.”

But Jehan is already singing along, with the most sincere face they can muster, clutching their hands in front of their chest for maximum effect.

_“And I knew if I had my chance  
That I could make those people dance—”_

They bat their eyes at him and Grantaire grins wider. “Coffee _first_,” he says.

Jehan pays no attention, as the chords pick up they begin to shimmy their shoulders and dance towards him.

“Stop it,” Grantaire demands, smiling uncontrollably.

_“Well, I know that you’re in love with him!  
‘Cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.“_

Jehan throws their arms around his neck and dances on the spot.

_“You both kicked off your shoes,  
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues!”_

The chorus starts and Grantaire gives up. His morning voice is no good for singing, but he grabs Jehan’s hands and steadies them as they jump through the kitchen.

_“I started singing: bye, bye, Miss American Pie_   
_Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry_   
_Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey ‘n rye_   
_Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die_   
_This’ll be the day that I die!”_

Eventually Grantaire starts singing too, because he might as well, Jehan has won anyway. With them laughing at him like this he’s not about to be a sore loser either. He does escape their grasping hands to pour the coffee when it’s done though, leaving Jehan to sing on their own for a bit while he takes a long draught of actual clarity.

Jehan kicks up their feet as they spin.

_“We all got up to dance  
Ohhhh, but we never got the chance!”_

God they’re cute. Grantaire puts his mug down for the last chorus and catches his datemate by their hand, spinning them slowly as the song drawls to a close.

_“Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n rye  
And singin’ this’ll be the day that I die…..”_

Jehan beams up at him and Grantaire grins, rolling his eyes slightly at the triumph on their face.

He loops his arms round their waist and pulls them a little closer. They spread their hands across his chest, their hands warm through the thin fabric. Grantaire smiles, resisting the urge to kiss the tip of their nose.

"Since we’re honouring Don McLean,” he murmurs. “Sing me Vincent?”

“We can’t dance to Vincent though,” Jehan says, looking up at him with those big, impossibly dark eyes.

“I’ll dance with you to Vincent,” Grantaire says solemnly.

Jehan hums, tracing the faded pattern on Grantaire’s shirt for a quiet moment before they take in a deep breath to sing. They don’t bother looking up the music. Instead they sing unaccompanied, their voice unfairly bright and clear this early in the morning and very very sweet. Grantaire loves this song. He loves Jehan singing it more.

_“[Starry, starry night](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DoxHnRfhDmrk%26ab_channel%3Dwysty67&t=N2YxODc2ZjBmNmU5ODdjYTA5N2JlMDBjZWNiOTRmNThhYzc3NDVjYywyWGF4M05HQg%3D%3D&b=t%3A8JQA8OHRcwr219nd49TPmw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmysunfreckle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175874652386%2Fearly-morning-music&m=1)_   
_Paint your palette blue and grey_   
_Look out on a summer’s day_   
_With eyes that know the darkness in my soul…”_

Grantaire wraps one arm more firmly around their waist, taking their left hand with his right, and steps them into a slow rhythm. Slow enough that Jehan can keep singing, and they do, their voice just as slightly melancholy as the words.

_“Shadows on the hills  
Sketch the trees and the daffodils…”_

Their lips are pink in their sun-kissed face and Grantaire swears new freckles appear on their skin every day. Jehan sings and they both sway, following the rhythm of their voice.

_“Flaming flo’ers that brightly blaze_   
_Swirling clouds in violet haze_   
_Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of China blue,_   
_Colours changing hue…”_

Grantaire guides the both of them through the tiny kitchen in languid circles. He does not have to watch his feet, he only watches Jehan.

_“Morning fields of amber grain_   
_Weathered faces lined in pain_   
_Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand…”_

Jehan presses closer against him, nearly leaning their head against his shoulder, and he can feel their singing reverberate through his chest as they progress through the song.

_“And now I understand what you tried to say to me_   
_How you suffered for your sanity_   
_How you tried to set them free…”_

Jehan looks sad and beautiful and Grantaire wants to kiss them. But he doesn’t, he must let them sing.

_“They would not listen_   
_They’re not list'ning still_   
_Perhaps they never will…”_

The final note lingers just long enough to finish the last turn of the dance. Grantaire smiles, but Jehan’s dark eyes are large and sober now.

“I like melancholy dancing better at dusk,” they say.

Grantaire releases their hand to softly touch their face. “Not in the morning?”

“Not in the morning,” they say solemnly.

“Sorry,” Grantaire mutters and he leans forward, brushing his lips against theirs as gently as he can.

Jehan barely moves, but Grantaire imagines he can feel their eyes fall shut and he lets that ghost of a kiss linger until Jehan smiles against his lips. They pull away from him slowly and look at him with little lights dancing in their eyes again.

“Sing the Belle Amie song for me, the one Feuilly taught you, with the weird French.”

And because there is only so much coaxing he can take and Jehan already sang for him, Grantaire gives in and takes up his guitar. He throws the strap over his shoulder and leans against the counter, playing just a twinge off key because he’s too lazy to tune up. Jehan’s face lights up with a grin at the very first chord and Grantaire grins back.

_“[Ma belle amie!](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D9V7aE2Wa7HY%26ab_channel%3Dmartinzoth&t=ZmE1OTcxOTBjMGI1MTI4Yzc0Nzk5ODg2YTlhY2M0OTJjZGE3Yzc1MiwyWGF4M05HQg%3D%3D&b=t%3A8JQA8OHRcwr219nd49TPmw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmysunfreckle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175874652386%2Fearly-morning-music&m=1)_   
_You were a child of the sun_   
_And the sky and the deep blue sea_

_Ma belle amie!_   
_Apres tous les beaux jours_   
_Je te dis merci merci”_

His voice is still raspy, but Jehan’s pleased blush is all the encouragement Grantaire needs. They sway from foot to foot in front of him, laughing at his expressions as he sings. For a moment Grantaire sees himself from a distance and he’s nearly inclined to laugh in disbelief. It’s not even nine in the morning, he’s barely had half a cup of coffee and here he is, playing and singing for a dancing, beaming, _joyful_ Jehan Prouvaire. His own lovely Jehan Prouvaire.

He doesn’t laugh, not out loud at least, but the laugh is warmly present in his voice as he shamelessly changes the lyrics to better suit his feelings. And to make Jehan smile wider, because that should _always_ be one of his primary goals.

_“You were the answer of all my questions_   
_Before I’m through,_   
_I want to tell you, that I adore you_   
_And always do_   
_That you amaze me, so please don’t leave me_   
_And start a-new_   
_Ma belle amie, I’m in love with you!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll have to forgive me, I have a lot of feelings about Vincent van Gogh, and Grantaire having feelings about Vincent van Gogh, and Vincent van Gogh having feelings about Les Mis. And weird Dutch music~


	3. Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A “Greek Gods are still worshipped in modern times” AU, ~670 words.  
Written as a present for @soaringren!

Jehan likes to take ‘singing praises’ literally. Some words just works best with a melody. Right now, with the temple all quiet and empty, they take particular pleasure in it. Their voice echoes around the altar room like there’s a whole host of devotees singing.

On a normal day Aphrodite’s place of worship would never be this empty. People will always have reasons to beg for her favour. But today is not a normal day. 

As Jehan places the last rose on the altar, they are beginning to hear the glorious noise outside, approaching at a droning, dancing pace.

With a last murmur of devotion they flit barefooted out of the altar room, making their way out of the temple, into the streaming sunlight. They hurry through the streets, feet going faster and faster as they get nearer to the sounds of celebration until they are almost running. Jehan_ loves_ the Dionysia. The festival fills the entire city with joy and energy. Like the place is bursting at the seams with hidden happinesses ready to break loose.

The closer they get, the more crowded the streets, but Jehan darts past people without any trouble. People let them pass unhindered, only looking to see them dance past.

Jehan has never been able to see it themself, but they’ve been told that the blessing of Aphrodite clings to them like a visible shimmering, like morning dew on roses.

Jehan pays no mind to any admiring looks. They can see the procession. A dancing, snaking crowd of unbridled elation. Baskets full of offerings lifted high above the vine-crowned heads. Pitches being passed from hand to hand, wet lips smiling blissfully before breaking out into song again.

The songs. The music. Jehan can feel it fill them up inside until there is room for nothing else. They reach out their hand and one of the devotees takes it, gleefully pulling Jehan into the throng.

It’s like dancing through a river. Jehan jumps an sings, calling out praise to Dionysus as loudly and sincerely as they never do for anyone but their goddess. They move faster than the crowd though, skipping past the dancers, the poets, the theatre groups. All the way to the front of the procession, all the way until they see him.

Because there, vine leaves tangled in his curls, leader of the _pompe_, is Grantaire.

Jehan stops for just a moment, air rushing into their lungs. Because Grantaire looks _happy_. So surrounded by the unequivocal proof of what life has to offer. Jehan shouts, calling out his name like it just another cry of worship, and Grantaire turns round.

He reaches for them and Jehan runs. Tomorrow. Tomorrow there can be thought and reflection again. Today is for wild abandon.

Strong arms close around them and suddenly they’re lifted up, the world turning sideways until they find themself seated on top of Grantaire’s shoulders, higher than all the crowd.

“Poetry!” they hear Grantaire’s voice ring out, strong hands closed securely around their ankles.

“Poetry!” all the crowd around them cheers. “Give us poetry!”

And Jehan does. The words tumble from their lips without pause or hesitation. New words, never put together before, rushing into a crescendo like a song devoid of melody but all possessed by rhythm.

The last word fights itself free and Jehan laughs, breathless and blissful, and lets themselves fall backwards. Their feet slip through Grantaire’s fingers, but his followers catch them before they’ve even started falling. Their feet are on the ground again and they immediately throw their arms around Grantaire, who turns his face towards them with their own words still echoed in his eyes.

“Beautiful,” he breathes and in a rush of colour and noise he presses a single, burning kiss to their lips.

Jehan glows.

There is no need to feel guilty, dancing at the Dionysia with Dionysus’ priest, every minute spent with Grantaire is praise to Aphrodite.


	4. Endlessly Fond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written because an anon asked for "a clingy kiss".

The night’s sky is _beautiful_. It’s dark and wide and beset with jewel-like stars. Jehan pushes themself up on their elbows, up off the blanket they had been lying on, their face lifted eagerly towards the heavens.

Next to them Grantaire makes a soft, vaguely protesting sound.

Jehan sits up fully, tilting their head back further to not loose even a sliver of the sky, and feels around blindly with one hand to find Grantaire’s.

His fingers squeeze their hand in the dark and there is something not quite easy about the way he holds on to them so tightly.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Nowhere,” Jehan says quietly, the stars focussing and unfocussing before their eyes. “See the sky, R…”

Grantaire doesn’t let go of them and when he breaks the silence between them his voice sounds oddly heavy. “…it feels like you’re about to fly away.”

Jehan blinks, the spell of the starlight dissipating. Silently they turn around, kneeling beside where Grantaire is still lying down and looking down at his face. The whole of the starry sky seems to be reflected in his eyes. Jehan feels the whole of their feelings stirring in their chest.

“I’ll never fly away from you,” they say warmly and they lean down, into Grantaire’s eagerly outreaching hands and press a kiss on his mouth. He kisses them back with a joint desire to have them closer and push his own uncertainty away and Jehan lets themself melt against him, coming to lie beside him again. They don’t pull away until he does and for a moment they just lie there, breathing softly in the quiet darkness, looking at each other by the pale starlight.

Then Grantaire finally smiles. Just a bit exasperated with himself, endlessly fond of them.

Jehan touches their noses together for a moment and smile back, putting their head down against his shoulder.

Grantaire sighs a little as they cuddle up closer against his side. “You can fly if you want to,” he mutters into their hair. “Just, please come back again, alright?”

Jehan smiles up at the stars. “I promise,” they say, whispering the words right beside Grantaire’s ear. “Cross my heart.”


End file.
